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Vietnam my home away from home.  The place where parents were born  From the loud motorcycle's horn,  To the vast street vendors across the town,  To the dreams I discover in the fields of rice,
Fob!  “Fresh off the boat!”,
Fleeing Vietnam,
"Why aren't you making straight A's?"
If you really knew me you would know that I look at people the way you read a book. If you really knew me you'd see the way I tense up when
The legend of my people Swept under torrents of napalm Behind stars of lead Drinking storms of Orange Subsistence of my blood Obscured by molding bread By confabulations of scars
I am from straw hats, From humid to dirty roads, I am from Mommy’s and Daddy’s homeland, (Saigon, the city where everyone gathers.)
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